


Market Day

by rebornlover



Series: Stories of the Dora Milaje [1]
Category: Black Panther (2018)
Genre: Gen, Wakanda
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2016-06-27
Packaged: 2018-07-18 12:18:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7314955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebornlover/pseuds/rebornlover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A newly minted member of the Dora Milaje spends the day with her niece and tries to adjust to her new life. Also Wakandan elders disapproves of non-Wakandan music (their grandchildren disagree)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Market Day

**Author's Note:**

> I am eventually going to include Nakia and Okoye in a story about the Dora Milaje but not now. Sidenote: I am East African and I wanted to explore Wakanda from that perspective so I've tried to give the characters real names and the word jaja (grandmother) is taken from my mother tongue, but also tried to not just pick things from random cultures or let my own history drown out the setting of the story. Please review if you can.

‘So, you had a fight with jaja huh?’ Her aunt’s voice was calm, steady, and so quiet she shouldn’t have been able to hear it with the all the noise around them. It had always annoyed Namazzi. Even shouting her voice didn't seem to carry like her aunt's, partly because she was very bad at (using her mother’s words) speaking from the stomach. Like the way the people in the market place around them parted to let them through without thought, it was just another sign that marked her aunt as more (and, at least according to jaja, better). She reached up to adjust the basket she was carrying on her head. Her family had always sold their mangoes at the market on Sunday and this week it was her turn to watch the stall.

The cold wind was flowing from behind her. She shivered slightly though the wrap she wore covered her up to her neck. The week had been sunny but also humid and the air had been stifling so that even sitting in the shade provided only minor comfort. It was still dark out, the market day started before the new day began and so it was not uncommon for vendors to be seen setting up their stalls in the light provided by the torches affixed to the snake statues around the open square allotted for this purpose. She imagined she could feel the rain in the clouds above her and she took a minute to ponder the image, the clouds roiling darkly around one another, heavy and dark with their burden. Her fingers itched to pick up a sketch pad. She walked a bit faster knowing that, despite the fact that her basket was bigger, her aunt would not fall behind.

* * *

Dembe sighed, she was used to Namazzi pretending not to hear her when she could get away with it. It annoyed jaja to no end even though she was never a recipient of such treatment. Namazzi did it because she knew that Dembe would let her. She reached back and rubbed her hand awkwardly over the smooth skin of her head, she was still getting used to that. This was a rite of passage among the Dora Milaje, one that wasn’t required but encouraged strongly. She had had some trepidations about shaving her head but all the others had been determined to do this together and she would have felt lonely to be left out, even if she did love her hair.

Namazzi saw her aunt move and couldn’t help but let it draw her eye towards the top of her aunt’s head. It was uncommon among their clan for any person to shave their head completely. Her friend Nasiche had done so but that was because she enjoyed swimming and disliked caps. It was strange, she was used to seeing her aunt’s braids falling loosely around her head. In the light from the torches around them the silhouette beside her seemed more like that of a stranger than a woman she had been close to for most of her life. They reached the stall area and began to set up.

Dembe allowed the silence to continue as they laid out the blanket on the slightly raised platform that her family had been using to sell their mangoes for generations. Later in the day when her brother came by to release his daughter he would heft himself easily from the chair to the special padded pillow they would set up for him and survey the fruit stall as was his routine. As they arranged the mangoes on the blanket a couple of the other merchants passed by them, nodding respectfully when they caught sight of the markings on her face. Her cheeks felt warm but she made sure to smile back at them. She was slightly nostalgic for the days when the elder shop keepers would ignore her intent on selling their wares to the adults around her. Now it seemed like everywhere she went people she had never met before bowed their heads at her gaze. Toddlers and elders alike, the feeling was **heavy.** Not suffocating exactly, but close.

She glanced at her niece and sighed, she had taken a seat beside the mangoes and was watching the morning news on the small screen projected from the beads on her bracelet. It was heartbreaking in a way, here was a girl who had used to love her, who had looked up at her with the stars in her eyes. And now apparently she had been relegated behind the early morning news.

There was a sudden humming, they both glanced up as the rain barrier sprang up around the market area. The light blue of the barrier was odd against the slightly lighter grey that marked the beginning of this day. The drizzle started so faintly that at first they could not hear it, or see the faint imprints the drops made as they landed softly on the barrier. But as the rain began to increase in intensity the sound of it bouncing off the rain barrier sounded like staccato of humming that eventually coalesced into one continuous buzzing.

Namazzi glanced at her aunt, and sighed. Dembe was staring up at the rain with a bright smile on her face, she knew what was coming. Dembe sprang lightly to her feet and glancing around to make sure there weren’t too many potential shoppers nearby, she walked to the edge of the barrier about a meter away from where their area was set up and slowly held her hand out. Her bracelet beeped softly and the barrier flowed around her hand and came back together on the underside of her arm so that it appeared if you weren’t looking closely that her arm was passing through the barrier itself rather than a hole shaped specifically for her hand.  
She had forgotten how lovely her aunt’s smile was, her real smile. Maybe it was the training to be an Adored One (may the goddess guide them to glory) or maybe it was the attentions she was now constantly receiving (and oh that must be _delightfu_ l for her wallflower aunt) but it seemed like it had been years since she had seen her aunt look so peacefully happy.

She felt bad. It was a sudden pit in her stomach, making her feel both empty and queasy. It wasn’t her aunt’s fault that she hadn’t been careful with her music beads. Jaja had always been difficult about thing from outside Wakanda but she hadn’t expected to get such a big reaction from a few songs. She wasn’t ready to talk to her aunt about it, but, she could be a little nicer to her while she was here. She would figure out the thing with jaja in her own time. She got up and, making sure to keep one eye on her mangoes, sidled up to her aunt and bumped her hip idly to the woman’s. Her aunt glanced back at her in surprise and then turned to face her full on, removing her hand and letting the barrier connect back into a seamless surface.


End file.
